


18 bakers

by groove_bunker



Series: all claudia's fault [3]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: AU, F/F, IYOTP, fluffy as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 14:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groove_bunker/pseuds/groove_bunker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka dragged you around 18 bakers to find the perfect cake; you don't want it smeared all over your dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	18 bakers

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine your OTP getting married and having a cake fight at the reception.

 “Lattimer, you are so dead.” Myka is standing next to her best man, tears of laughter rolling down her face, while you wipe chocolate cake off your face, “I still have the knife.”

You pick up the huge knife they’d given you to cut the cake and gesture towards him with it. He ducks behind Myka, who still finds your cake covered face completely hilarious. You want to laugh with her but you can’t let Pete see that you’re not actually mad. Something comes flying past your ear and hits Myka’s head. You watch as her jaw drops.

“Score one for the Donovan!”

You do not want this cake throwing to continue. Myka had dragged you around about 18 different bakeries to find the perfect cake and now it was all over your hair. You try to step in and stop the madness when Myka takes a slice of cake and smashes it in your face.

“You can’t threaten to kill me! You promised me all those things earlier, you can’t go back on them now! It’s not too late for an annulment, you know.” Your wife is drunk. You’d told her free alcohol at weddings was a bad idea but she hadn’t listened.

As per usual.

Suddenly, the cake fight doesn’t mean anything because the woman standing in front of you, covered in cake and giggling to herself is your wife. After 3 years, countless arguments, one very dramatic proposal and 18 bakers (you’re sure it was 18), you’re married to the love of your life and the fact that she’s trying her best to throw small pieces of cake down the front of your dress is inconsequential.

You pull her close to you and give her a kiss.

The cake in your hand gets smeared all over her back. 


End file.
